


Late Night Psychotherapy

by VoidofRoses



Series: The Therapy of one Yakko Warner [1]
Category: Animaniacs
Genre: Gen, Otto is kinda dad, Yakko angst was handed to us so I went with it, spoilers for episode 11 of the reboot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27709400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoidofRoses/pseuds/VoidofRoses
Summary: Otto von Scratchansniff finds himself in the company of the Warners at 2am. Or rather, one Yakko Warner after an encounter with a toon shakes him to his core.
Relationships: Dr. Otto Scratchansniff & Dot Warner & Wakko Warner & Yakko Warner
Series: The Therapy of one Yakko Warner [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033521
Comments: 15
Kudos: 461





	Late Night Psychotherapy

**Author's Note:**

> I’m a simple person - I see a potential for angst and I run with it. Apologies if the voices are off I haven’t written Animaniacs fanfiction ever and I’m not a psychologist in any way.

Otto von Scratchansniff was woken by a loud sound coming from his office. Blinking blearily, the psychologist picked his glasses off the bedside table and squinted at the time - 2am. “What in the world...” He muttered to himself as he stood, not even pausing to stretch as he grabbed his white robe and slipped it on before sliding his bunny slippers over his feet, walking down the hallway.

It being the morning of the day after Halloween, there could be any number of things happening.

The hushed voices coming from his office fell silent and the light coming from the door remained on. Otto reached for a weapon - anything - and his hands came back with a baseball bat that he kept by the door just in case. Gripping the bat in one hand, he reached for the doorknob, pausing, and then opened the door with a flourish. “Alright, villain, hands...”

Yakko Warner looked over his shoulder, startled, as his fingers finished draping the blanket around his sleeping siblings. Dot and Wakko Warner were leaning against each other, fast asleep, drool dribbling from Wakko’s mouth onto the therapist couch. Yakko raised his hands, making a shush noise and looked at them a bit guiltily before approaching Otto, who stood in the doorway in stunned silence.

“Yakko, what is the meaning of this...??” Otto had not seen the Warners in twenty two years, one of his hands raising to scratch his head as the older brother took him by the arm and led him out of the office, gently shutting the door behind them before letting go and leaning against the door with a sigh.

“Sorry, Scratchy, we didn’t...I...didn’t know...”

Otto stared at the teenager before he huffed a little and put his baseball bat back where it belonged. “I have coffee in the kitchen if you would like to talk.”

Yakko gave him a wry smile and ran his fingers through his fur. “That’d be great.”

\---

“Are they still sleeping?” Otto looked up from where he was stirring the coffees, the machine blinking in the dim lighting of his kitchen. Yakko had just finished putting Dot and Wakko to bed in his spare room rather than the office, walking in scratching his arm and looking uncomfortable.

“Y-yeah. They’re asleep. Surprisingly.”

“You look troubled, my boy.” Sliding the teenager’s coffee across to him, Otto took a seat at the table, watching Yakko do the same. “It’s been twenty two years and I can still read you like a book. You are worried.”

Yakko looked a little indignant at that, though the tiredness in the toon’s eyes betrayed him as he blew at his coffee. “Yeah well, doc, with everything going on in the world, it’s hard not to be.”

“But something specific brought you to my office tonight...this morning...ach, American time makes no sense.”

“You’re...” Yakko paused and sipped at his cup of joe, glancing off to the side. “...we trust you. The tower didn’t seem safe tonight.” Otto didn’t say a word, sitting back in his chair as he so often did in their sessions, though this time devoid of clipboard and pen. “There was this toon we ran into...he seemed to pick up on our fears and...” His finger traced the rim of his cup, appreciating the warmth through his threadbare gloves. “It shook me I guess.”

“You, the unflappable Yakko Warner, was shooken?” Otto pretended to feign surprise, even at the glare that he got in return as he in turn sipped his coffee. “It sounds as though this toon was remarkable.”

“Sure I guess.” Yakko let go of his coffee and set it on the table, placing both of his hands in his lap as he gnawed on his lip. “I got tongue tied. I mean, I beat a rapper with Shakespearean wordplay for crying out loud! I shouldn’t...”

Ah yes, Otto had heard rumours about such a rap battle. He sat back in his seat, steepling his fingers. “You know, Yakko, that you rely on vindication of others through your comedic wordsmithing and sense of humour.”

“Duh. We’ve only been over that in a thousand sessions.” The toon rolled his eyes.

“Did you start hyperventilating?” Yakko shook his head before lowering it and nodding, his shoulders hunching. “Clammy? Cold in your stomach?” Another nod, and Yakko curled further in on himself. “A panic attack.”

“Not so much,” he murmured, fingers gripping his pant legs. He didn’t dare tell the doc that his soul almost got taken, had it not been for Dot and Wakko’s timing. Almost comedic really. “I guess I pushed it down.” Because they needed me went unsaid, silence lapsing between the two.

Otto pushes his glasses up his nose, tapping his fingers against his cheek. The Warners were enigmas and chaotic to most people - many wondered why they acted the way they did - but as a toon psychologist Otto understood the need to be hilarious, especially considering he had been Yakko’s therapist since his conception. Many toons wondered about their place in the world if they weren’t funny enough or could be easily replaced, and he had seen toons come and go over the years, yet the Warners were back. “To protect them.”

It was simple enough, yet it made Yakko take a wordless sip of his coffee nonetheless. Everything he did was to protect his siblings, from his over the top showmanship to even something as simple as letting them into his ballpit after they had a bad dream. It all circled back to Wakko and Dot, every single time.

No wonder the boy looked so tired.

Otto reached into his robe and pulled out his phone, selecting Yakko’s profile. After typing in a few things, he pressed print and shut it off, hearing the printer in his home office whirring to life. “I have perscribed you a stronger dose of your medication for now, until you shake this off.”

Looking up, he received a shaky smile and relief flooding black eyes. “Thanks, doc.”

“And a complimentary medication to go along with it, for the PTSD. I suggest taking one in the morning and one at night, with meals.” Otto sat back in his chair, finishing his coffee and cupping his hands around his mug. “You are welcome to stay until morning, if that is what you wish.”

Yakko let out a small sigh, closing his eyes and curling in on himself. He really did look like a child sometimes. “You’re the best, Scratchy. I promise we’ll be out of your hair come morning...figuratively speaking of course.”

The psychologist let his own snigger come out at that. “Ah, a laugh at my bald head.” He watched the toon brighten considerably, like life had just been breathed back into him. Otto waved him off. “Go. Sleep with your kin. I will be here.”

A big wet smack was placed on his forehead over the table and he huffed as Yakko slipped out the door, wiping the saliva off with the sleeve of his robe. Adjusting himself, Otto stood from his seat and gathered the mugs, placing them in the sink - they could wait until later. Walking down the hall, he heard whispers coming from the guest bedroom and waited for them to fall silent before cracking the door open slightly.

Yakko was now curled up between his siblings, his arms protectively around them both even as Wakko and Dot seemed to shield him from the outside world. Otto smiled to himself and pulled away, shutting the door quietly, shaking his head as he walked back down the hall to his own bedroom, yawning.

“Otto von Scratchansniff, you’ve gotten soft.”


End file.
